


Definitely Maybe

by ForTheOffBeatHeart



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Bisexuality, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Gender-neutral Reader, Halo Lore, Other, Pining, Plane Crash, References to Halo (Video Games), Sassy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Third Base is Hand Holding, Weird Plot Shit, in this christian minecraft server, nursed back to health, simping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:34:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28260048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForTheOffBeatHeart/pseuds/ForTheOffBeatHeart
Summary: You aren't sure what's going on. You were just doing your job as an insignificant pelican pilot for the UNSC, but one day she comes out of nowhere, commandeering your ship and your life. She's brave and abrasive, strong and hot-headed, and you know from a single look that she could bench you with one hand. Basically, there's only so much to do when two injured soldiers are in the wilderness trying to fix a pelican by hand. After a while even Tex would have to open up a bit,... right? No, it's probably just wishful thinking...
Relationships: Agent Texas | Allison/Reader
Kudos: 6





	1. Above Your Paygrade

**Author's Note:**

> Based off of a dream I had, this is so self-indulgent I hope you get to dream about it, too. If foul language and initial bad attitude in fluff does not do it for you, you won't enjoy this. If it does, or you read anyway, I hope you enjoy! Also this fic is going to have SO MUCH random Pelican Trivia, so buckle up. Here is a link to all the info you'll need in case you're curious or don't know about something:( https://www.halopedia.org/D77-TC_Pelican ) A Pilot's gotta know their ship! (Friendly reminder that "II" reads "The Second") Feel free to leave feedback/advice/thoughts in the comments!  
> Not Beta-ed, but I try my best to proofread.

You know that everyone is supposed to be geared up at all times. But no one can see when you're tucked away in the back of your pelican, making repairs to the cargo-bay turret. The shoulder pieces don't fit quite right, anyway, and would have made the angle you're in impossible. You grumble as something in your knee tweaks. Having to squat, bend down, and lean up all at the same time- who the hell designed these things? You hear metal screeching and a clank, and can feel it through your boots.

"Did that do it?" You can hear your co-pilot from outside. You groan in relief as you stand, brace your hands on the barrels of the turret, and give it a vigorous, full-body shake. It still wouldn't budge.

"No!" You try not to sound mad at your co-pilot. It's not like the damn thing really needs to work; you never got assignments in dangerous places. Your next shipment was literally a galaxy away, a carrier would be doing all the hard legwork. But standards are standards, and this ship is your responsibility. You bend back down, and begin pulling at the ammo belt again. You're sure a bullet must have gotten lose and is what's jamming the rotating base, but even with the floor panel pulled off the gaps are too small to really see through, much less to get your fingers into and dig it out. You hear a snap and suddenly the entire plate that the gun is mounted on tilts. You pulled your fingers out of the way in time, but the handguard of the turret hits you in the head. You fall back and catch yourself on the seat of the bench. "Fucking hell! What did you just do?" you yelled.

"Uh-oh." You curse to yourself, though you're pretty sure you can be heard. "What did that do? Because, from here, it looks like this thing is entirely busted."

"Yeah," you pause for a second to take a deep breath, "It's entirely busted." You check the time; there's only twenty minutes left until the cargo gets here. You're stuck with a panel removed from the hull and the cargo bay, and a turret that won't rotate, but WILL wiggle side to side like a fucking joystick. There is a reason why you unofficially named the ship Shining Bastard II. You don't think the ship is even fit for spaceflight now, which is an actual problem. "Can you put the hull back together with the way it is?" For a moment, there's no response. You hear the whir of a power drill and then the groaning of armor plating refusing to bend.

"...No. Damn it!"

An alarm blaring is the only thing that keeps you from wasting your energy kicking the stupid thing. A thrill of anxiety churns your gut. That is anything but good.

"I see people running to the hangar, we should go!" You shout a frantic "yeah, go on without me" as you scramble to put your upper-body armor back on. Your T-shirt gets caught between the shoulder and chest parts, and you have to redo it.

"Stupid- fucking-" The clip keeps slipping between your fingers, "COOPERATE." You feel a wave of dizziness and fall back in shocked silence. You land on the closed bay door, and you suddenly realize from the buzzing running from the metal to your arms that the engines are on, warming up, and that you aren't dizzy. The Pelican is moving. "Uh!" you shout, unable to tell who is in your seat. "What's going on?" You put your helmet on, and unfortunately happen to block yourself from seeing anything other than a shadow lean back into the seat. Whoever it is, they know you're th- "Oh, fuck!" The bay door lurches in the direction that is now down. The pelican is no longer on the ground, and someone is opening the bay door WITH YOU ON TOP OF IT? You launch yourself off of it and slide on the floor to the base of the turret. It jolts down, and you swear you almost piss yourself from the fear of it completely breaking lose. "Oh shit, oh shit, ohshitohshitohshit!" You manage to wrap your arms around the turret, head down, elbows locked around the stalk with the gun acting like a cap to keep you there. It hurts, and black grease is covering you, but you're also not falling out of a plane with no parachute, so that's nice.

"What the hell are you doing, close the bay door! You're going to kill me!" Whoever is piloting the pelican probably couldn't hear, but if they did they were being an absolute psychopath! You kept yelling, until you realized the air was getting really thin. You are definitely scared now. "Stop! Wait, the hull is broken! This ship isn't fit for space! We won't have any air! Please, at least close the door!" You were going to die. Even if you held on, even with your basic armor, you'd only last half a minute. At most. You were numb to everything until the ferocious wind stopped pulling at you, and the door closed. You dropped to the floor, but didn't move. It got a lot warmer very quickly. You could hear and feel rattling in the panel under you. Was there enough of a seal to keep the air in if you left the atmosphere? The rattling calmed to silence, the turbulence died, and you heard the hissing of reserve oxygen being pumped in. There wasn't hissing under you. You nearly cried with thankfulness- somehow, Shining Bastard II pulled through and saved your ass. You tried to stand, but realized too late that you were shaking like a leaf. You sat down, and closed your eyes. Don't be sick, don't be sick, think about ice cubes-

You had no idea how long you sat there, but you took enough time to calm down and work some shit out. Someone had broken into the shipyard. They must have created a diversion in the hangar, or the warehouse, and hijacked your pelican. You could also tell you were in space, and that whoever was in the pilot seat knew what they were doing. They hadn't said anything, and they were fine with dripping you like an egg out of the fucking sky, but they changed their mind. Probably so they wouldn't suffocate from having the door open, but the cockpit could be sealed off with the push of a couple buttons. If they knew what they were doing, it made more sense that they decided to spare you. You didn't have any cargo to save, either... You stood, and decided it was time to ask this bitch a couple questions. You pulled your pistol from its holster.

"What happened to my copilot?" you demanded and you marched up to the cockpit. You didn't get an answer until you made it up to the front.

"Didn't see one." Not a deep voice... You took the last step, and leveled your pistol to their head in one fluid motion. You take a second to register what you're looking at.

"Holy shit. You're a-"

"Above your paygrade, now get out of my face," they cut you off. Shining Bastard II was hijacked by a real-ass goddamn Spartan.

"With all due respect, Sir-"

"Ma'am."

"With all due respect, Ma'am, it seems like you stole my fucking ship." You kept your pistol to her head, but she didn't seem to care. She looked at you, her expression hidden behind the orange visor. She turned back to watch where they were going and adjusted their course.

"It's not stealing if you're still here." You were flabbergasted.

"Yes? Yes, it is? I am the pilot, but this pelican technically still belongs to-" The Spartan raised her hand, and you instinctively shut your mouth.

"Look, kid, you should have let go. Falling was the easy way out of this. Go sit over there and be quiet, any maybe, MAYBE I'll give you your ship back when I'm done." This absolutely was above your paygrade. You've spent your entire deployment delivering food and medical supplies to other parts of an endless relay that never gives a sense of accomplishment. You don't even know where the supplies end up. The only thing you do know is that there are plenty of other pilots that do the exact same thing as you, and the only problem this situation poses to your employer is a missing ship. You suddenly feel very expendable, so you lower your gun and go sit down. 

You sit in silence for a long time. Your body starts to think it's time to sleep, but you force yourself to stay awake. You tell yourself you're not tired, that it's just the calm after stress. Eventually, you remember that you have a clock. Shit. You really should have been keeping track of the time... Whatever. It's 10:37 now. The ship hits turbulence, you hear a shout from the cockpit, and any joy, happiness, or comfort you may have ever felt just jumped ship. You bolt up, but hesitate a few steps away from the Spartan. You have to assess the situation. It seemed like you were landing at first, but- Oh boy, this is not the kind of angle you enter atmosphere at! You turn to the Spartan, about to yell and demand an explanation, but UH-OH.

"You've been BLEEDING this whole time?" She didn't say anything to you, but was clearly struggling to regain control of the Pelican. "Did you pass out? What the hell?" You kept talking, but you were rambling and already running to the nearest health pack that was hanging over the jumpseats. "What kind of fucking- Is this an emergency landing?"

"Yes!" You bolt back to the cockpit and slam the door closed, sealing it off. You brace yourself as best you can between the back wall of the cockpit and the dashboard, and lean over the Spartan. The turbulence makes opening the damn health pack difficult with one hand, and the Spartan snatches it away from you. She gives a shout of pain as she brings her knees up to the yoke to keep it steadier with her hands gone. She opens it and throws its contents at you. She brings her arms back up to steer the pelican, but extends her leg out to give you more access to her gut. Thank goodness the wound was on her right, otherwise this would be a lot harder. You were no medic, but by feeling around you could tell the wound was just below her ribs. Infection, possibly. Lungs full of fluid, probably not. One of those things you could work with. You pressed around the wound and saw the bullet.

"Holy shit" you accidentally say out loud. Stuck there in her side was the back end of a 40mm bullet from a chain gun. There were too many things about that to be astounded over. How did she only get hit ONCE? How did it not take a chunk of her with it? You were no medic, but surely the damage should be worse than a hole that doesn't even go clean through! You pull yourself together and grab the forceps with your teeth. You reach up with one hand to quickly take it out of its packaging and slowly begin to pull the bullet out. It was shattered, but... "Your armor... melted this bullet."

"Buckle up, NOW!" Her hand sideswiped you so hard it threw you onto the co-pilot seat. You got strapped in and noticed just how close the ground-

"Oh my god-" you remembered to bite down on the mouth piece in your helmet just seconds before your seats ejected. You were BARELY two-hundred feet off the ground, if the parachute stuck for even a second, if it didn't open right, if there was a downdraft, if gravity on this planet was stronger- the parachute opened with a whoosh, and as soon as the jolt was over you spit out the mouthpiece. You might throw up.

"Over there, there's a clearing." Even she was breathing hard. Shining Bastard II crashed into the soil, sending thin waves of it out either side. The ship fishtailed and rolled, tumbling until it wedged itself in an abrupt stop against something in the distance. It was blocked by dense trees, of some kind.

"Yeah. Yeah." How did she synch her coms to your helmet? WHEN did she? You followed her long spiral down to the clearing. When you landed, you fell flat on your face. Your legs were shaking so much you were completely unprepared to stand, much less run when you hit the ground. This time, you did not have the foresight to bite the mouthpiece. Your eyes watered and you tasted blood. Your nose was fucked, probably. You rolled over, covered in chords, and saw the Spartan standing over you.

"If you're going to slow me down, stay here." You immediately stick your hand out, but she scoffs and begins walking towards the crash. You decide to lay there a bit longer. Okay, this is so far above your paygrade.


	2. Shining Bastard II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And they were ROOMMATES, except it's a crashed pelican, they're both injured, and kinda fucked. Good thing you're a pretty decent pilot, who knows how to fix your ship, and maybe Texas respects you for that.

"This pelican has hopefully seen better days..." the Spartan remarks sarcastically. You manage a smug grin, though she's not even looking.

"Not really. There's a reason we call him Shining Bastard II. You won't believe what happened to the original Shining Bastard, it was-"

"Let's get to work." You grimace. She was already picking at the debris for recognizable pieces- "recognizable" might be a bit of a stretch- acting like both of you are totally fine.

"No." She stopped, and finally turns to you.

"What did you just say to me?" Oh boy, you suddenly did not want to pick this fight, but you're already in so much pain.

"I said.. No. You're injured. I'm injured. Spartan or not, we need to rest or our injuries will get worse. YOU still need to be treated."

"YOU'RE not injured. You're fucking welcome, by the way. And I'm fine. If you're gonna talk back to me, get out of my way. I have a ship to fix." She didn't wait for you to say anything. Fine. You begin your search inside the pelican, which surprisingly isn't on fire or anything, though the left wing is clean off. At least you can get in that way. You pick through the cargo bay, which is in astonishingly good shape aside from all of the paneling being misaligned and bent. The gun cabinet and such were all locked, so most of the small stuff stayed generally where it was supposed to. The health packs had come lose, though. You start at one end, and search around the whole interior. You find one stuck between the gun cabinets and the roof, the panel folded over it. It looked crushed, and pretty stuck in there, but maybe you can use something as a lever. You try three different bits of metal without any luck. The first two bend, the third doesn't and simply proves you aren't strong enough. Maybe if you jump up...

"What ARE you doing?" You're frustrated. You're covered in sweat, you're exhausted, and you're overall pretty damn grumpy. You ripped off your helmet and chucked it into the cockpit before turning to scowl at the Spartan. Fuck this, she shouldn't be so rude.

"I'm trying to get this health pack out. Your wound needs to be treated." She stared, and it was awkward as hell.

"Why the fuck do you care? I stole your ship." All you could do is put your face in your hands, rubbing vigorously. You have no words.

"I don't want you to die?"

"You don't want to be stuck out here alone."

"I can help you! YOU can probably help you! Just- can you please get this thing out from there? I..." You pause. "Please?" Her figure is cold-looking. Her armor is dark, and it doesn't seem like she's going to take off her helmet. Every part of her is obscured. She could be a robot, with a really human voice, and you wouldn't know.

"... Please, what?"

"What?"

"Please what."

"Please,... your highness?" Her eye roll is so grand it shifts her whole head.

"You're an idiot." She sighs and marches over. She shoulders you out of the way and uses the piece of metal you grabbed as a lever, as you intended. She pulls it with one hand, and the metal trapping the health pack gives. There's enough space for her hand to fit, and she grabs it. She shoves it into you before going over to the bench and laying down. You can really tell that she's in pain when she bends. You sigh. You know you aren't an idiot. You went to kneel beside her, and began properly cleaning the wound.

"What's your name?"

"None of your business."

"That's a bit of a mouthful. Everyone calls you that, every time?"

"I'll shoot you."

"You'll be down a pair of hands."

"I thought you were inj- ow!" You purse your lips.

"I swear I didn't do that on purpose."

"Yeah, right. I didn't steal your pelican on purpose, either."

"I'm not a medic, okay?"

"No shit." You bit your tongue for a while. You cleaned the wound, removed the bullet, and somehow the bleeding was slow enough to not be... really bad. You begin to bandage it, but keep looking at the bullet.

"So, None of Your Business, can you explain how the bullet is melted?"

"Will it shut you up if I do?"

"Definitely maybe."

"Sometimes, if a bullet happens to hit head on, my energy shield distributes and absorbs the potential maximum energy. That makes it... pretty hot."

"Is that why you're not bleeding nearly as much as you should be?"

"Are you done yet?"

"Yes, None of Your Business, I'm done." You get up and stuff the health pack with all the used items. It can be a trashcan now.

"Texas."

"Huh?"

"HUH?" she mocked, "I said, my name is Texas. Tex." You smile a little.

"Alright, Texas. I think we should focus on getting some heat before night comes. Do... We're on the same planet, right?" She groaned as she got up, and shook her head.

"Yes, we are on the same planet." She stares at you, and you stare at her in confusion.

"...What-" You don't even get the word out.

"They just let anyone become a pilot these days, huh?"

"I never did exciting stuff." You shrug and turn away to pull the emergency blankets out of the wall compartment. Now that you aren't panicking, or worrying about literally anything else, you realize you do recognized the dirt, the trees, the planet. She really did just fly the pelican straight up... and still crash-land. You think you remember that the forest on this planet covers about eighty percent of the surface. Anyway, these trees are dry and drought-resistant. This means it shouldn't get much colder than it will be in a few hours. You remember to check the time. 15:15. Okay, so it should only get a few degrees colder. That's good news, because it isn't that cold. Still, emergency blankets. You can see that the panel is bent out of shape in a way that has the latch jammed. The side with the hinges seem to be intact, though. You grab the health pack, and hold it against the edge of the panel that it bend outwards. You slam the pack with the outside of your fist, using as much of your bodyweight as possible. This worked out nicely. The panel bent back into kind of the shape it was originally, and after using the health pack and brute force all around the edges, the latch worked. You pulled all three of the blankets out. Texas is Spartan-sized, and the blankets are human-sized, after all. You turn around to lay her two on the bench but stop dead in your tracks when you nearly walk right into the Spartan. She was standing right behind you, arms crossed and silent. You make a face. "What," you huff. There's no reason to assume she wouldn't need a blanket. She's totally gonna be rude again.

"...Nothing." She sounded something like cautious, but that was the end of it because she goes back outside to pick at the wreckage again. It's not getting dark quite yet, so you head outside, too. You turn around and go back inside. You really should check to see if the emergency rations are still good, and if you'll need to build a fire. Since your ship isn't usually assigned to carry people, you aren't equipped with as much. But you should have enough for two people, given everything survived. Hopefully it's enough... You assess the cockpit. Your rations are stored in cubbies under the pilot and co-pilot seats. The pilot seat is missing it's back, which you realize is in the lump of debris sitting just outside the hole in the pelican, and the co-pilot seat is mostly okay, but is twisted a little to the right, the corner now pinched between the edge of the now nonexistent window and the side panel. There is dirt everywhere, but it otherwise looks like it should work. You never would have felt confident enough to assume these planes would actually hold up in a crash, but whaddya know. The compartments where the food and water should be have a small loop poking out, just big enough for two fingers to get through and pull. The pilot side one came lose without issue, but the co-pilot side one was stuck on the right side.

"Torsion is such a bitch." You ended up actually laying down, putting your feet up on the chair, and pulling that way. The cubby came lose, sending you sliding on the floor a foot or so. You find yourself laughing, hugging the cubby to your chest. It doesn't weigh very much. You open them up and take a look.

"Each cubby has four bars. So that's eight bars," you read the label on one of them, "which is sixteen packets of food. That's... about four-hundred grams of food, which means we should have about... uh-oh. You realize the bottom of the right cubby- the one you yanked free- is filled with water that probably used to be fresh. You turn the water canister and find that the side of the cubby had broken instead of bent at the bottom, and the jutting edge poked a hole right through the water canister. You slide the can out gently and stand it up to keep from losing any more water. The food packets are wet with dirty water, but they'll be fine. You lay everything out before deciding to pack all the food away into the pilot-side cubby. Might as well keep it safe. Now you leave the pelican, ready to help Texas with whatever she's doing.

"We lost about a quarter of our drinking water, but the rations are otherwise intact. What can I do to help?" You awkwardly stand at attention. For all the lip you've given, the Spartan would be any number of ranks above you. And is likely experienced with... crashes and other emergencies. You did not expect her to say what she did, though.

"Go over there, you're gonna help me move the wing."

"...Uh." Was she not aware that the wing weighed around forty tons? With the engine, the rockets, and- oh, you didn't have any rockets, because they were taken off during maintenance. Regardless, there was no way you'd be able to move forty tons! Texas didn't seem to see a problem, and brushed past you to find a good spot to grip. Well, you might as well try?

"Here, put your hands here." She moved over so you could put your hands where hers were. You do as you're told, and push. Nothing happens. You keep pushing, and suddenly the wing begins to slide. You step forward to keep momentum, and holy shit. Note to self, a Spartan is 100% able to move forty tons of metal. It didn't sound like it was easy, though. After just a few seconds, she was breathing heavy and groaning probably from both pain and strain. Your face was throbbing a bit, but you've had worse migraines, so you kept pushing. The wing slid ever so slowly, and the two of you only managed to get it a fifth of the way. That was still around twenty meters, though,

"Damn. I had no clue you guys were THAT strong."

"I may be a little bit injured..." You dragged your eyes away from the distance that remained to look at her, and realized the bandages had come undone. She was bleeding more this time.

"Okay. Alright. We might be able to make some kind of rig to move this thing more easily. It's beginning to get dark," you check the time, and see that it's 17:54, "this planet has short days. Let me fix you up and we can get clever about it in the morning."

"I don't need you to take care of me," she replied curtly. But she was making her way to the pelican. You follow her. She swipes the health packs before you can get them, and sits down on the bench to do it herself. You leave her be. Instead, you grab the cubby with the supplies, and put it between the two of you. You grab your blanket and unfold it half way, sitting on it to make the ground a little more cushiony. You eagerly get your chest and shoulder armor off, and throw it into the cockpit to join your helmet. You think to fix your hair, but there really isn't much you can do. You waterfall some water into your mouth before opening one of the bars of food and taking a packet. You're halfway through it, taking small bites, and the sun has finally completely set. You watch as Texas lays there for a while, curious. You decided to put the half-eaten food bar away and go back outside. Texas had dragged her parachute all the way here, and you thought of a good use for it. You pull it back to the pelican, climb up onto the roof, and drape the parachute over the hole where the wing used to be. You didn't have anything to cover the windshield with, but it was pretty packed with trees. When you go back inside, the Spartan is sitting up and you feel like her eyes are following you. The bay floor lights had come on, which was good. It meant the battery was still alive and attached, and that at least some of the electronics would still be working.

"Come here." She curls two fingers at you and points to the floor in front of her. You stand where she pointed. Even though she was sitting, her height put her at less than a foot shorter than you in this position. She grabbed your face, and at first you were afraid. But her grasp was gentle as well as strong, and she turned your face side to side, then up, then she let go. She rummages in one of the health packs. "Don't move." You didn't even speak. The Spartan's large gloved hands came back up to your face, and she was putting a thick bandage across the bridge of your nose. She put two smaller pieces of tape on each cheek to hold it in place. The pressure was a bit of relief. You feel your face get hot, because she was making you feel like a kid. And you really hadn't been expecting any help like this from her. You smile awkwardly.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." She grabbed one of the blankets and, laying down again, turns away from you. You curled up on the floor, deciding to tuck yourself under the bench on the other side. It felt a little safer. Your mind wanders. You have no clue how long it had been, and you don't feel like moving an inch to check the time. You don't even feel like opening your eyes, but you can't sleep yet.

"Are you still awake?" Unsurprisingly, you get not response. "The original Shining Bastard was the ship I trained in. My job was the same back then, too. But they gave me a weird order, they said it would only set me back a day. They wanted me to swoop down out of the clouds on a planet I couldn't know the location of, and start shooting anyone I could see. They said, 'They'll look human, don't worry, they're not.' I wasn't the only one told to do it, all on the same day. It was weird." You pause, thinking maybe the Spartan was actually asleep. You lower your voice a little bit more. "Anyway, I almost died. I was picking up speed in a little dive, and the moment I popped out of the cloud cover I had the missiles ready. I saw something, so I fired. It was someone that looked like you. They moved so fast, I still wonder if I actually saw what I saw. They dodged the first two, then GRABBED the third missile and threw it right back at me. I made it out by ejecting, obviously, but the Shining Bastard had failed to fire the third missile. When it got hit, boom. Nothing worth anything was left. That stupid, glorious ship. The missiles always gave me hell, and now Shining Bastard II gives me hell with this stupid turret. Something always has to not work, it seems." You pat the floor under you. You always will be happy as a pilot, though. You hear a rustling and turn your head to see Texas facing you. "Can't sleep?"

"You talk way too much."

"I can't sleep." You stare at each other for a bit. You wonder what her face looks like. Suddenly remembering that she has a face, that she's some super powered wonder woman, makes you look away. You pretend you were cold and pull the blanket up over your nose, which hurts, but is nice and warm.

"It's not always a bad thing." What? You think about that for a moment. Was she... asking you to keep talking?

"Do you wanna hear about the time my co-pilot found out that I'm colorblind?" There was no response, and you begin to think maybe that's her way of saying 'yes'.


End file.
